if only i could go, to the places you've travelled
by GriffinGirl8655
Summary: Thirty-six questions, and the two people that can answer them. *sometimes AU*
1. Question 1

_1\. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?_

(Conrad) Sister, sister

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Though his voice does little to betray any anxiety he might be feeling, she watches his face as he speaks into the phone. Her best friend may have been accomplished at concealing his emotions from the rest of the world, but she'd like to think she could see through that facade fairly well.

He flashes a tight smile, intently listening to the speaker on the other end. She takes that as her cue to leave, squeezing his hand before turning her back. "I- is 6 alright for dinner, Aletha?"

She's waiting for him in his kitchen, and she knows how the conversation ended. His apartment is so small; someone talking can basically be heard from one end to the other, but she still raises her eyebrows at him when he walks out to meet her. "So? How'd it go? Are you going to see your sister?" She props her elbows up on the tiny island countertop.

He breathes a sigh of relief, and runs a hand through his hair. There is the barest breath of relief and joy written in his face. He nods. "She's making a reservation at that restaurant on Theris Court. You know, after all these years, I thought I would be the last person in the world she would want to see again."

(Piper) Mend your coat, drink my coffee

He was a haggard man with hardly a letter -let alone dollars- to his name, beaten down by the world to endlessly strive and suffer. Conrad always told her that J.'s life was probably none so dramatic, and there was no use being kind to someone that wouldn't have it.

However, as always, his line of reasoning had done little to stop Piper from always asking her mentor when he came to visit, to stay for a cup of coffee and some- well, sometimes it was only stale biscuits she had on hand, and other times it was practically a three-course meal. But, it never seemed to matter how much or how little she offered, because the older man's answer was always the same; a tight smile, a head shake, and a denial of whatever had been offered.

Conrad wasn't a fool; he, too, had seen how J.'s elbows sometimes poked through the holes in his jacket, and how he sometimes he looked far too weary for someone heading out for a job in a couple minutes. Piper would cluck her tongue, and demand the coat, patching as quickly as her fingers would work. Despite his protests, he always received the coffee anyway, and he always took it gratefully, with a smile of amused admiration for the young woman.

"You're like your mother, you know," both men tell her often, and though she rolls her eyes, and tells them to perish such a thought, she takes it as a compliment all the same. Because, like Betty McCloud, Piper's heart is never too small to take in _yet _another friend for the night ("I'm absolutely starved, Pipes; the university cafeteria food tastes like gym socks."), but it always holds a special room for the tired man in the old dark coat; the unwilling dinner guest.

**Ha, wow. It's been a while. Sorry about that! I actually wrote Conrad's part of this a while ago, inspired by the podcast musical, ****_36 Questions_****, and decided to make it an actual thing! I apologize for the slight drop in quality that was Piper's bit. In case it isn't clear, I think Conrad's chosen dinner guest would be his sister, and Piper's would be J. For reasons I will expand upon later (this is kind of an AU world?), Conrad and Aletha had a sort of falling out. **

**In case you've never heard of them, the thirty-six questions are a real thing. They are intended to help people get to know each other in the very least; at most, they are reported to make the two participants fall in love. I figured it would be a fun time to combine them with Piper and Conrad, and so, here we are! **

**I own neither the thirty-six questions, nor ****_The Girl Who Could Fly _****by Victoria Forester. I hope you guys enjoyed this, and I should be back to posting more often, soon. **

**~GriffinGirl8655**


	2. Question 2

_2-_ _Would you like to be famous? In what way?_

**(Conrad) For you, dear, anything**

Mournful whispers roll through the news; "The President had a son?"

Reporters and undercover detectives alike are hired to do some digging. Cheap supermarket tabloids roll out the atrocious headlines accusing President Harrington and his First Lady of child abuse for the mysterious circumstances in which the unknown boy died. They paint Harrington as neglectful and stuck in the past, for sending his son away to a veritable insane asylum (or so they guess, because there is literally no information about I.N.S.A.N.E anywhere).

(They don't know how close to the truth they are.)

The more credible newspapers take a more cautious approach, asking to interview Mrs. Churchill-Harrington, and writing pieces on how the funding of all those African orphanages must mean so much more to her than a display of philanthropy. They ask to publish his picture ("Just a family photo?"), but she refuses.

"He was always so clever, you know. But the only person he ever wanted to notice him was his father. He would've done anything for his father."

(They don't know what that really means.)

Far away, in little Lowland County, the very boy presumed to be dead hears his father's words. He never sees the printed ink, spilling out theories and quotes and lies; never hears his mother's answers. He doesn't need to.

And, as he lies in bed that night, he remembers his childhood dreams; becoming a famous scientist, a renowned linguist and communicator, the first time traveller. He is a child still, but he feels as though he has perished from old age.

He never wanted this kind of notoriety.

He just wanted his father's attention.

He would do anything for his father.

("My son is dead.")

He would die.

**(Piper) Let me play among the stars**

Though her name spills across newspapers and her reported ability to fly fills their pages, her story is often given only a passing glance and an eye roll (if the reader is being generous).

(Of course, it's fascinating to read about a girl who could fly, but it's highly doubtful that she truly exists. She's just another hoax blown up by the supermarket tabloids, and though she will draw people in, no one will stay to find out if she is real. And, when a strange doctor lady denounces the girl's power, everyone nods their heads, as they are told.)

Of course, the girl herself is not there to listen to the news stories or read the papers. She will never know if she made waves, or if strangers cared, and how the naysayers laughed when they were proved triumphant.

In fact, she isn't really in a place to care about the media at all, when they are caring about her. When she returns home, whispers follow in her wake, and rumors rush behind her back, for reasons she doesn't completely understand.

(She is walking home from the supply store, when she hears Sally Sue's voice. "She's delusional, don't you know?." Piper continues on, her head held high, and her fist clenched tight.)

She bubbles herself inside her family, taking joy in just being with her ma and pa. She allows herself to fly away from the talking, to cocoon herself with sky and unwind with her friends (because the very fact she has people in her life she can entitle 'friends' is something to be celebrated).

("I was talking to Mister Henderson -he lives only a few fields away, you know- and he said there are strange goings-ons at that house. Strange goings-ons, indeed." A chill runs through her body, though her face feels strangely warm.)

And, though she knows inside she's happy, and that this is all ever she wanted, it would be nice if the preacher's wife would stop giving her pitying smiles; it would be peachy if the Baker family down the road would start buying their eggs again. It would be-

_Deep breaths_.

Would-bes and what-ifs won't change her infamacy; her head has no place in those clouds, when her feet on this ground. So, she takes another breath, a smaller one this time, filled with a little fire and a bit of fear and a boat-load of freedom, and lets herself take off.

Whatever she's known for on earth can't plague her heaven of sky and stars; wherever she ventures up above, their gazes and minds will never follow. And, really, that is all she asks, anyway.

**So, disclaimer time! Don't own _The _****_Girl Who Could Fly_****, nor the third book that's reported to be coming out in January 2020, called ****_The Girl Who Fell Out of the Sky_****. Based off its premise (the synopsis for it is up on Goodreads!), I may be writing some new things. **

**Also, the titles for Conrad's part, and Piper's part, are both based off of songs. Conrad's is from ****_Oliver Twist_****, from the song 'I'd Do Anything', and Piper's is from Frank Sinatra's 'Fly Me To The Moon'. I thought the lyrics were fitting, though the songs themselves have very different themes to this chapter. **

**Anonymous: Thank you! :D It's good to be back. **

**Expect another update for this story soon! I can't promise anything for my other two; kinda in a slump with those. I apologize for everyone who had a request, because you've been waiting literal ages. **

**Hope you enjoyed,**

**~GriffinGirl8655**


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